September 24, 1977 – October 23, 2001

Years after loosing Ryan, I know I retreated in many ways. I think I was trying to … actually, I have no idea what I was trying to do. I don’t truthfully know why I distanced myself in many ways, for it wasn’t a conscience decision, it just happened. Most would say I was dealing with my loss. True. I also focused all of my energies on Kyle. True. But really, I’ve seen other people deal with loss and travel down different paths. I guess this is the road I was chosen to trek.

Ryan’s death affected everyone differently. It’s definitely, not just about my family and myself. Nope, his loss included distant family, friends of the family, Ryan’s friends, my friends, and unbeknownst to him, Ryan’s son Kyle, among others near and far.

As the years tally up, and I leave my personal cocoon, I run into signs of the pain as a result of Ryan’s death, even after all this time. Some are literal signs. Example, Ryan’s one friend Jacob (or his brother Luke) has a tattoo on his leg marking Ryan’s date he departed us. Another friend of mine and Ryan’s, Danielle, named her daughter after Ryan. This is a common theme, for I’ve ran into a few people who did just that, including Ryan’s friend Travis (I think it was him). It’s a very sweet and heartwarming gesture. I hope Kyle realizes just how much his dad meant to everyone, enough to name their offspring after my brother.

Recently, I’ve been missing Ryan. Yes, that’s not a new concept and always an underlying truth, but I miss Ryan for Kyle, and I wish he would’ve know his father. Presently, I feel like Kyle needs his dad, especially with the major issues we’ve been having with Kyle, mostly his attitude. I don’t know how the present would appear if Ryan was still with us, but I do know for certain, Ryan wouldn’t have allowed any of it to happen, or put a mad stop to it immediately. I get it, Kyle’s a teenager, but disrespect should never be permitted, let alone displayed, no matter the age.

Kyle isn’t a bad kid, really he’s not. He’s a pretty good young man, but we’ve hit a rough patch. I pray Kyle understands that I try and make decisions based on what his dad would say or do, or how he felt about certain topics. Loss is never easy, for anyone involved, not even one who was three months old when Kyle experienced his first loss.

Words cannot express how much I miss you Ryan. Truly. I know you chose me as Kyle’s godmother for a reason, and you always knew I’d put Kyle first and I’d do right by him. I’m sincerely trying my best. Honestly, you’d be proud of Kyle. He’s a very talented and intelligent young man and his future is promising. He’s already shown to be a success as a person.

The introduction quote is actually a snippet from a poem. It’s really a lovely piece, and very appropriate for this blog post. Ever since loosing Ryan, I try not to sweat the small stuff. I put things into perspective, especially when it comes to materialism, which I’m not a big fan of and never have been, similar to Ryan. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is as important as human life and doing the right thing.

Like Elizabeth Bishop, I too try and accept loss and loosing someone. But I’ve never completely come to terms with Ryan’s death. I’m sure he’ll always weigh heavy on my heart, some days are easier than others.

Below is the poem in it’s entirety. Take a moment and try it out for yourself.

One ArtBy Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.